


Rain, Tea, Begin

by Underthebluerain



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Nicknames, Pre-Canon, Pre-Femslash, Pre-Slash, because angie is talking basically, peggy keeps everything bottled up while angie overshares as usual, the origin of angie's nickname for peggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Underthebluerain/pseuds/Underthebluerain
Summary: It’s very late, she’s soaking wet from the rain, and it’s not like she doesn’t have a place to go back to. So Peggy doesn’t really know what she’s doing in an automat.





	Rain, Tea, Begin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was first posted on Tumblr as one of my entries for the 2016 Cartinelli Week, day 4 prompt: "First Meeting".

It’s very late, she’s soaking wet from the rain, and it’s not like she doesn’t have a place to go back to. So Peggy doesn’t really know what she’s doing in an automat.

(That’s not true, she just doesn’t want to go back to the flat and face Colleen. Her roommate is nice, and cheerful, and she always wants to talk, and she always wants Peggy to talk, and sometimes when they’re together and Colleen’s looking at her as if she’d known her forever, all that goes through Peggy’s mind is _don’t, it’s not safe_ and at the same time _please never stop_.)

When she’s with people, she feels either smothered or invisible. When she’s by herself, she feels... numb, in a way, but it might be more accurate to say she feels empty, like she’s already spent everything she could of herself.

(That’s not true either, when she’s at work, she is filled with a wild, hot rage that she can barely keep under control and that grows with every “Honey, fix me a coffee, will ya?” that comes out of her coworkers’ mouths.)

She misses the times when she could punch mouths like those, the times when she was in command, but that’s a dangerous train of thought because it grazes things she doesn’t want to remember.

“English, are you?” a cheery, loud voice interrupts her thoughts and she turns around. It’s one of the waitresses, judging by the uniform and the ridiculous little hat to match she’s wearing. Peggy had almost forgotten she was in an automat.

“Yes, how did you know?” She’s certain she hasn’t said a word since she came in, so she couldn’t have identified her accent.

“It’s always the same with you people,” the waitress says matter-of-factly. “You come here and first thing you do, is stare at the teas in the menu and pout.”

That’s true, Peggy realises, she didn’t even notice she was doing it, but she is holding the menu open by the tea list.

(The pouting thing isn’t true, though. Peggy is a former military officer of high ranking. She doesn’t _pout_.)

“Well, I can confirm what you’re thinking,” the waitress —Angie, her nametag says. Peggy wonders if it stands for Angela or for Angelica— walks up to her table. “Tea here’s crap. Don’t ask me why we serve it, in my experience it only pisses people off. Tremendously. One time this old man from Leeds spent fifteen minutes shouting at me about how awful it was and when he was done complaining he threw it at me. Luckily by then it was cold, and he was right, but still, so rude.”

Peggy blinks, a little taken aback by both her sincerity and her ability to say all that in one breath without gasping for air. “Well, um, what would you recommend?”

“Well, if you want something to eat, the pastries are actually great, and the hot chocolate is pretty good. And I’d say you need it, you look like you just took a bath in the Hudson. I’m gonna have to clean it up later.”

“Oh.” It’s true, she realises belatedly, her wet clothes have left a puddle on the floor. _Well done_. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Angie says, and surprisingly seems to mean it, too. She doesn’t look bothered, just a little amused.

“I didn’t have an umbrella,” she adds, because Angie keeps looking at her. _Yes, because that is not at all obvious_.

“Right.” Now Angie’s definitely amused. “So, what’ll it be?”

***

“How’s the chocolate?” Peggy looks up from her cup to see Angie sitting down at a near table. She’s fiddling with the pins that hold her hat in place. “I hate this thing. It makes it look as if I’ve got a giant head.”

“It’s great. I mean, the chocolate. Listen, sorry again about the mess I’ve made. Just tell me where you keep the mop and I’ll clean it. No need for you to stay after hours because of me.”

“Don’t, seriously. If my boss sees a customer cleaning he’ll still make me stay to gimme a talk. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Right. I’m Peggy. Peggy Carter.”

“As you may have already seen, I’m Angie. Short for Angela Marianna Brina Martinelli, but that wouldn’t fit in the tag, fortunately.”

Peggy can’t leave things like that, though. “What can I do to make it up to you, then?”

Angie looks pensive for a moment, then gets up and sits at Peggy’s booth in front of her. “Maybe you could help me with a job I’m trying to land. Could you be a secret agent?”

Peggy stops herself from freezing in time. “Excuse me?”

“I got this audition in about a week, it’s for a spy thriller. I’m gonna try for a part but I got no one to read the agent’s lines with me so I can rehearse.”

Peggy exhales, relieved. “I see.” She should say no. She doesn’t want to. “Of course. But you should know I don’t have any sort of experience with acting.”

“No problem, you just have to read the lines so I can respond.”

“All right then. What role are you auditioning for?”

“The love interest.” Angie makes a face. “I know, I know, but it’s the only female role. She ain’t got much to do, but I’ve been trying out for a while and never got any part, so well, beggars can’t be choosers. I don’t wanna be serving coffee for the rest of my life. Honestly, this job’s a drag.”

That just reminds Peggy of her own situation at work, and she holds in the impulse to express her agreement. “Well, I’m sure once that show is over and done with, you’ll get to do bigger roles. Better ones.”

Angie gets up, looks off into the distance and dramatically announces, “That is my only hope”, and Peggy can’t help but chuckle.

***

It’s almost midnight when Peggy finishes her chocolate, and it’s only her and an elderly woman in the automat by then. Angie’s been cleaning the counter since her break ended.

Her talk with Angie has been a little overwhelming. Peggy thinks, only for a moment, about slipping away quickly and quietly, all she has to do is leave the money on the table and just go without saying goodbye, then never return here.

Instead, she takes her time to get up, gathers her coat and purse, walks up to the counter, puts the coins on it and waits until she can catch Angie’s eye to say, “Well, I’d better be on my way. I’ll call the automat so we can set a date for the line reading. Thank you, have a nice night” and makes her way out of the automat.

“Bye, English!” Angie’s cheerful voice calls after her. Peggy knows she should probably turn around and wave goodbye, but she doesn’t.

She might come back to the automat tomorrow, though.


End file.
